He leaned lazily back in his chair, flashing a cocky grin. “Being caged up with a beautiful lunatic, you mean?”
“Ha, ha, ha. Do all Carpathian males think they’re stand-up comedians?”
“Just those of us with sisters-in-law who bounce off walls. I feel like I am watching a Ping-Pong ball. Settle down.”
“Well, how long does something like this take? Mikhail was very upset.”
Leaning back with studied casualness, Jacques tipped his chair to a precarious angle and raised an eyebrow. “Women have vivid imaginations.”
“Intellect, Jacques, not imagination,” she corrected sweetly.
He grinned at her. “Carpathian males understand the fragile nature of women’s nerves. They just cannot take the adversity that we men can.”
Raven hooked her foot around his chair and sent him crashing to the floor. Hands on hips, she regarded him with a superior glint. “Carpathian men are vain, dear brother-in-law,” she proclaimed, “but not too bright.”
Jacques glared up at her with mock ferocity. “You have a mean streak in you.” He suddenly came to his feet; his dark eyes were instantly sober, restless. “Put this on.” Out of nothing he fashioned a heavy cardigan.
“How do you do that?” It seemed like magic to her.
“A Carpathian can make anything natural of the earth,” he informed her in a slightly distracted tone. “Put it on, Raven. I am beginning to feel trapped in this cabin. We need to get out into the night where I can smell trouble coming.”
Raven pulled the warmth of the cardigan close around her and followed Jacques out onto the porch. “The night is almost over,” she observed.
Jacques inhaled sharply. “I smell blood. Two humans; one is familiar to me.”
“Father Hummer,” Raven said anxiously. “It’s his blood.” She started down the stairs, but Jacques, more cautious, caught her arm.
“I do not like this, Raven.”
“He’s hurt, Jacques. I feel his pain. He is not a young man.”
“Perhaps. But how is it he is up here? This cabin is very remote; few know of its existence. How does the priest come to us nearing our weakest hour?”
“He could be dying. Mikhail trusts him,” Raven said staunchly, her heart already going out to the priest. “We have to help him.”
“You will stay behind me and do as I say,” Jacques commanded, forcing her resisting body behind him. “I gave Mikhail my word that I would guard you with my life, and this I intend to do.”
“But...” Raven swallowed the rest of her protest, easily reading his resolve.
“Scent the wind, Raven. You are Carpathian. Do not always believe the obvious. See with more than your eyes and your heart. I have called Mikhail. He is far from us but will return with all speed. And the dawn approaches.” Jacques had moved off the small porch to the grove of trees, turning slowly in a full circle. “There is another.”
Raven tried, inhaling the night air, scanning in every direction to find hidden danger. She felt uneasy, but she could only detect the slow approach of the priest and his human companion. “What am I missing, Jacques?” Then she felt it, too, a feeling of disturbance in the natural harmony of things, a power that was out of balance with the earth.
She saw Jacques catch his breath sharply; his black eyes, so like Mikhail’s, glittered with sudden menace. “Get out of here, Raven. Run. Get out fast. Do not look back. Find shelter from the sun and wait for Mikhail.”
“I can help you.” Terror was rising. Something terrible threatened them, something Jacques feared. Raven could not find it in herself to run away and leave her brother-in-law to face danger alone. “I can’t go, Jacques.”
You do not understand. You are more important than I am, than the priest, than any of us. You are our only hope for the future. Leave this place. Do not make me fail my brother.
Indecision warred with her conscience. Father Hummer limped into view, far more frail than she remembered him. His face was battered and swollen almost beyond recognition. For the first time he looked every one of his eighty-three years.
“Go, Raven!” Jacques hissed, again making a slow circle, never once looking at the advancing priest. His eyes were restless, moving constantly, searching, always searching. You must leave now.
Another man came into view. He looked remarkably like Eugene Slovensky, but his hair was blonder and he was obviously younger. He moved up behind the priest and with the flat of his palm on Edgar Hummer’s back, shoved viciously.
The priest stumbled forward, fell on one knee, tried to rise and fell full length, his face in the dirt and vegetation. The blond viciously kicked him. “Get up, damn you, old man. Get up or I’ll kill you where you lie.”
“Stop it!” Raven cried, tears glistening in her eyes. “Father Hummer!” Impetuously she rushed down the stairs.
Jacques sprang forward and cut her off, intercepting her so fast that he was merely a blur. He shoved her roughly back toward the porch. It is a trap, Raven. Get out of here.
But Father Hummer!she cried to Jacques in protest.
“Come here, lady,” growled Slovensky’s look-alike. He bent, grabbed the priest by the collar, and dragged him to his knees. A wicked-looking knife gleamed at the priest’s throat. “I’ll kill him right now if you don’t do what I say.”
Jacques turned then, red lights beginning to glow in the depths of his dark eyes. He growled a low rumble of warning that sent shivers along Raven’s spine and drained the color from the priest’s assailant.
Around them the wind picked up, hurtling leaves and twigs against Jacques’s legs. A creature seemed to materialize from nowhere, hit him hard in the chest, picked him up and drove his body into a tree trunk.
Raven screamed. Mikhail! Where are you?
I am coming. Get away from there.
Jacques and his undead attacker crashed from tree to tree. Claws slashed; fangs ripped and tore.
Branches cracked under the weight of their bodies. The two locked in mortal combat were shape-shifting continually. The vampire, strong and high from a fresh kill, flung himself at Jacques, beating him down, inflicting draining cuts all over his body.
Run, Raven. It is you he wants,Jacques warned. Go while you can.
She could hear Jacques breathing heavily, see his growing weakness. Raven had never actually attacked another human being in her life, but it was clear Jacques was in trouble. Hurry, Mikhail.There was desperation in her message. Dawn was streaking across the sky when she leapt on the vampire’s back, trying to drag him from Jacques.
No, get back!Jacques’s cry was sharp, imperious, and laced with terror. No, Raven!Mikhail echoed the command from a distance.
No, woman, do not!Gregori’s voice whispered fiercely in her head.
Not understanding, but certain she was in deadly peril, Raven tried to jump off. The vampire clamped one hand around her wrist in a viselike grip and turned his head, triumph in his glowing eyes. Sharp teeth bit into her wrist, and he was gulping dark, rich blood. It burned and hurt like a red-hot brand. Her flesh was ragged and gaping, his fangs tearing at her.
Mikhail and Gregori mentally struck together at the vampire’s throat. Although such an attack was not very successful against one of Carpathian blood and they were still some distance away, their combined assault closed off the undead’s air momentarily. Jacques struck the vampire with renewed ferocity, driving him backward, dislodging Raven so that she fell free. Blood sprayed in a shower of crimson droplets across the forest floor, and for one moment both fighters froze, distracted by the red shower, turning almost in unison toward her.